The Resolution Project

Tackling a year's worth of New Year's resolutions - one week at a time

[resolutionproject]

Week 38: No regrets

The origin

I'm sure all of us have experienced buyer’s remorse at one point in our lives. Some of us more recently than others. For those of you who aren't familiar with the notion, buyers remorse is the feeling of regret that appears after dropping dough on something – either an expensive pair of shoes, an Aston Martin, or a Big Mac.  

My most recent bout of buyer’s remorse happened last week, when I impulsively purchased a tray of overpriced meatballs from Whole Foods. As soon as I got home, I regretted shelling out $15 for a dish I could’ve made myself. Unfortunately, that wasn’t my first experience with the feeling. I'm actually a chronic suffer of buyer’s remorse, but it goes beyond just purchases. That classic stomach-in-knots anxiety appears with every decision I make, which is why I’ve moved passed buyer’s remorse and onto something bigger – decider’s remorse.

Let me explain. Regardless of the decision – whether it’s choosing an entrée at dinner or choosing a new apartment – there’s always an internal yes-or-no debate that takes place within my brain. For example, if the dress I’m currently trying on at the Gap is work appropriate. Or if I should be investing the $100 I’m about to spend on shoes. Or if I’ll regret skipping the gym to catch a few extra zzzzz’s. And no matter what the end result is, there’s always a part of me that questions whether I chose correctly. The only time I trust my gut is when it comes to cheese and wine (yes to both) or whether I should finally wearing my joggers outside the apartment (nope).

Constantly playing devil’s advocate against myself is getting a little exhausting. I feel like Kevin Garvey in the Leftovers. Except, instead of dead Patti Levin always questioning my decisions, it’s just me. It’s time to tell that voice in my head to STFU and start enjoying life with no regrets.

The outcome

To put it lightly, I nailed it this week. Let me hit you with the highlights: I ordered a totally new-to-me dish at brunch. I upgraded my lob (aka long bob) haircut to a Kate Mara style bob. I skipped my morning workout – twice. I splurged on a second cocktail at dinner. I bought an expensive pair of workout tights. I passed on a night out with friends to stay in. And I don’t regret a thing.

Since I’m more or less recovered from my decider’s remorse, I feel it’s only fair to share my learnings. So here you go – here’s how to give less of a shit:

Tell that judgmental voice inside your head to take a hike. Suggest that it take an extended spa day or binge watchMaking a Murderer – whatever that Patti Levin-type voice needs to stay out of your business.

Trust yourself. Most impulse decisions and initial reactions are based on intuition, and you’re obviously not a complete moron. Whatever your spidey-sense tells you, just go with it.

Set a standard. You obviously can’t run buck wild, throwing caution to the wind and ignoring possible consequences – no one needs to end up in jail. That’s why it’s important to implement the ‘What would ____ do’ technique to help keep reality in check. I choose my friend Abbey, who is the perfect balance between spontaneity and level-headedness. Would Abbey spend her entire savings on a designer bag? Probably not. But you can bet your entire savings that she would eagerly skip a Soul Cycle class to indulge in happy hour.

Don’t look back. This is critical: Once you make a decision, put it out of your mind. For example, after placing your brunch order, immediately dispose of the menu. Hand it to the waitress. Shove it in your dining partner’s lap. Chuck it across the restaurant. Do whatever it takes to avoid reviewing your options again and, inevitably, kicking yourself for ordering an egg white omelet over chicken & waffles.

Keep in mind that there’s always tomorrow. Or next year. Or the next time around. If you make a decision that you 100% regret, just remember that there will most likely be another time in your future to make the right decision. Or at least one that’s less wrong than your current action.  

You won’t see me putting in extra hours next week. I’m taking it easy.

[resolutionproject]

Week 37: Be aggressive

The origin

If you’ve ever been out to dinner with me, you’ve probably learned that I a) hate to share food; b) can’t pass up a glass of Malbec; and c) never, ever complain to the waiter about the food – even if I’m served the completely wrong dish. I’ll gladly sulk at my mediocre salad or bitch to my dining partner about the lack of crackers on the cheeseboard. But I will never speak a word to the waiter.

One reason is because I used to be a waiter myself. I slung steaks, blooming onions, and chicken wings for 6+ years, and I always loathed those people who would complain throughout the entire meal: this soda isn’t diet; I ordered extra ranch; why isn’t my steak done yet?. But that’s not the only reason. Since I was a youngin’, I’ve struggled to speak my mind, even in dire situations. There’s no official account, but I’m pretty sure I lost several Barbie’s during day care to sticky-fingered children because I was too timid to stand up for myself.

Obviously, most four-year-olds aren’t going to Ronda Rousey someone for their toy back. But as I grew older, I struggled shake that timidness. I drank elaborate coffee concoctions from Starbucks that I didn’t order, I saw movies that I didn’t want to see, I even settled for college in state – too nervous to tell my parents that I maybe, possibly wanted to go elsewhere.

No matter the situation, I still manage to put others opinions and emotions before mine to avoid confrontation – just last week I sat silent while my Uber drive took the most inconvenient route. When it comes to standing up for myself, I’m definitely more Morgan Tookers than Mindy Lahiri. And that’s a little depressing to admit. After almost three decades of keeping my mouth shut, it’s time I resurrected my inner badass and took a stand for the most awesome, important person in my life – me.

The outcome

Per usual, it took a day or two to get into the swing of the challenge. There was a situation towards the beginning of the week where my assertiveness failed me. During dinner out with my boyfriend, the waitress sat us at a table in the middle of the restaurant. Even though we both have a strong preference for booths (and could see several open), we remained silent and took our given seats instead. I ragged on myself for hours afterwards. It’s such a simple request – why couldn’t I speak up?

That night, I gave myself a pep talk and watched a few episodes of The Mindy Project for inspiration. I realized that most of the confrontation I desperately try to avoid is fabricated. The waitress from earlier could probably give two shits whether we sat in the middle of the restaurant or in a booth. In fact, if she was anything like me during my waitressing days, her only concerns were which bar to hit up after work and if she could get away with ordering dessert for dinner.

Thankfully, the restaurant situation was my only failure among several successes this week. When a stranger continually tried to hijack the Uber I’d ordered, I wasn’t shy about aggressively telling him to back off. After a pricey dinner where I fronted the bill, I was persistent in nagging friends for every penny of their share (instead of letting a few dollars slide). When a ridiculously tight deadline arose at work, I fought to have it extended so I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my already-planned evening. And no one (besides the Uber guy) gave me any shit about it.

This week, I realized that being assertive had numerous benefits. First of all, I got exactly what I wanted. I didn’t eat one entrée or drink one coffee that I didn’t order. Secondly, my confidence was at an all-time high. I swear I walked taller after scolding that guy for trying to steal my Uber. Thirdly, my coworkers took me more seriously. Partly because of my confidence boost, I’m sure, but also because I made my opinions known. And most importantly, no one freaked out. Besides some grumbling from the Uber guy, no one got upset with me or called me a complainer or even denied my request. Which, honestly, was my biggest fear going into this challenge.

Next time I go out to dinner, I won’t think twice about requesting a different table or sending back my salad if the dressing isn’t served on the side. I finally realized that I deserve whatever I want – even dessert for dinner – and that all I have to do is ask.

Don’t miss next week’s challenge or you’ll regret it.

[resolutionproject]

Week 36: Set an intention

The origin

It’s the end of November. Christmas is just a few weeks away. My Amazon cart is completely empty. I haven’t started thinking about gifts for friends and family. My ugly sweater desperately needs to be replaced. And on top of that, I’m balancing work shenanigans with extracurricular endeavors, stressing about whether my cat will throw up on my freshly dry-cleaned comforter, and attempting to keep this blog somewhat afloat. The struggle is real right now.

With all of this anxiety hanging over my head like mistle-toe, I’ve relied on the usual suspects to help me relieve it – red wine and exercise. However, instead of my typical exercise faves – running, HIIT, and Shred415 – I found myself waking up at the crack of dawn to chataranga and downward dog. Historically, yoga has been one of my least favorite ways to workout. As one of the most inflexible people in Chicago, I’ve struggled to master even the ultimate beginner poses (yes, even happy baby). But it wasn’t just my inflexibly that made me swear off yoga – it was the painfully slow movements, the teacher’s too calm tone, and the lack of sweat that ultimately turned me off.

But then I found yoga sculpt, and my life changed. Yoga sculpt combined the best aspects of yoga (uniting your mind and body, relieving stress, all the glorious stretching) with the best aspects of other exercise classes (an instructor that sounds like a drill sergeant, upbeat tunes, gallons of sweat). After only a few classes, I was addicted.

Hands down, my favorite part of yoga sculpt (besides savasana) is when the instructor asks us to set our intentions for the class. This is what’s supposed to drive you to hold that plank for an extra second even when you feel like you’re going to pass the F out. Usually my intention is some variation of working hard so I can have an extra glass of wine later, but regardless, it always gets me to hold that damn plank.

I started to wonder if setting an intention would improve more than just my yoga skills – what would happen if I applied that same idea to my day-to-day? Well hold tight, cause that’s exactly what I did this week.

The outcome

I thought the idea of setting an intention for your day was genius (I considered quitting my day job and developing a Dr. Oz-type program around it). But after Googling, I quickly discovered I wasn’t the first to apply this yoga ideology to everyday life. This Huffington Post article talks about how when you set an intention, “you can make clear decisions that create the life you truly desire to live.” Like not pounding drinks with friends when your intention is to take care of your body.

I took a page out of Juliet’s book this week and tried to keep my intentions focused by following the format “Today, I want to feel _____.” Here are the intentions I set during the week:

I want to feel like a rockstar (i.e. be kickass)

I want to feel positive (i.e. no bitching)

I want to feel healthy (i.e. no cheeseburgers, only salads)

I want to feel calm (i.e. don’t murder anyone at work)

I want to feel empowered (i.e. speak my mind)

I want to feel confident (i.e. don’t worry about the haters)

I want to feel nurtured (i.e. avoid that extra glass of wine and go to bed early)

Like I learned in yoga, I used this intention to drive me through the day. Some tasks were harder to push through than that extra long plank. Like when my daily intention was to feel healthy, and my boyfriend offered to order dinner from our favorite pizza place after an especially long day (I ordered a salad, but had a brownie). Or when my intention was to feel calm, yet all I wanted to do was scream when a wreck caused major delays during my morning commute. Or when my intention was to feel nurtured, and I had to pass on late night drinks with friends (I settled for a glass of wine at home instead). But those are just a few of the low points. Otherwise, my intention did a fantastic job carrying me through my day, and giving me that extra boost of focused energy. The days I intended to feel like a rockstar, or confident, or empowered, I did. And I noticed a difference in my behavior (when I spilled coffee on my white sweater, I didn't let it bring me down). I was constantly reminding myself of my intention (like I constantly remind myself to avoid the Taco Bell drive-thru) and tweaking my behavior to support it.

I’ve attended a few yoga sculpt classes since finishing this challenge, and I’m proud to announce that I’ve been switching up my usual intention of work hard, play hard to focus on other aspects of my life to improve. In my day-to-day life, however, I’m still struggling to master the intention-setting and – more importantly – how to carry out those intentions. But hey, practice makes perfect, right?

Things might get aggressive next week - stay tuned!

[resolutionproject]

Week 35: Fill up on veggies

The origin

Winter is slowly starting to creep up on Chicago, like Lady Gaga in the latest season of American Horror Story. The temperatures are starting to drop from the upper 60’s to the low 40’s; stores are starting to advertise their Christmas specials; I’ve already purchased my first holiday-scented candle, Yankee Candles’ Sugar and Spice (It smells like a cinnamon scented Christmas brooms without all the dust bunnies those suckers typically collect.)

Now that it gets dark before I’ve had my 4:00pm chocolate fix, I’ve been craving heartier fare for lunch and dinner. You know what I’m talking about: extra cheesy broccoli cheddar soup, grilled-to-perfection paninis, chili with all the fixings. Compared to those options, boring broccoli or a cold salad just doesn’t seem as appealing. I’ve even traded my daily nutrient-packed post-workout green smoothie for a cheese-and-bread filled egg sandwich. Besides packing on a few lbs that I’m not proud of, this un-diet has led to some additional consequences – my energy level has dipped drastically; I have trouble sleeping at night; I get stomach aches throughout the day. And it’s all due to the lack of veggies on my plate lately. For my health and the sanity of those around me (let’s be honest, all those restless nights aren’t making me a blast to hangout with), I’m vowing to up my veggie intake this week.

 The outcome

When I first read the USDA’s recommended daily veggie intake, I laughed out loud. Only two cups?  That sounded like a breeze, even with the lack of veggies I’d been consuming lately. However, when I started tallying, I realized the number of vegetables making it into my mouth lately has been hovering around ½ cup – and that’s on a good day.

In order to give myself a fighting chance, I planned out a slew of veggie-packed meals on Sunday: Sweet potato and kale muffins for breakfast, big ass salads for lunch, sides of steamed squash and broccoli for dinner. I made a trip to the grocery store, filling my cart with all the nutrients it could hold.  

And then Monday happened. I overslept, and instead of blending a spinach smoothie, I had to resort to my typical on-the-go breakfast of a Larabar and a banana. While I kept lunch on track (a mixed green salad with shittons of veggies on top), dinner was a struggle. Since I missed my a.m. workout class, I stopped by the gym on my way home to log a few miles on the treadmill. When I finally got home at 7:30, the last thing I wanted to do was spend half an hour roasting the squash I’d purchased the night before.

After Monday’s disaster, I quickly realized that I usually bank on one meal to account for my entire day’s worth of veggies (smoothies for breakfast, salads for lunch, stir fry for dinner). And if I missed that opportunity, I was screwed. By mid-week, I started to get creative and made an effort to stop relying on just one meal to do the heavy lifting. I still whipped up a smoothie for breakfast (if time allowed), but I also threw minced portobello mushrooms into ground beef for #tacotuesday; I made spaghetti with zucchini noodles instead of regular pasta noodles; I even attempted to make a veggie-filled quiche (note: when Ina Garten says it's worth it to make your own pie crust, she's lying).

To be completely honest, I eventually stopped trying to measure how many greens I was consuming. Instead, I aimed to incorporate some type of veg into each meal (and even snacks – heeeelllooo celery sticks smothered in Sunbutter). By the end of the week, I started noticing a difference – in my attitude, in my sleep patterns, and even on the scale. And I realized that it’s possible to get my fill of greens without relying on a smoothie every morning. I can’t guarantee that I’ll completely give up Corner Bakery’s Loaded Potato Soup, but I’ll try my darndest to occasionally pair it with a side salad.

Don’t miss next week: I’m borrowing a trick from the yogis. 

[resolutionproject]

Week 34: Save dat money

The origin As I admitted in a previous post, I’m a bit of a shopaholic. No weekend is complete without a quick trip to the nearest Banana Republic and J.Crew to browse the sale racks. According to my credit card statement, I spend roughly $250 on clothes each month (a number I’m not proud of). And the sad truth is that number only covers one category of spending. My total monthly bill is more than I want to publicly admit. Like any mid-twenty something, I enjoy treating myself to sushi dinners, splurging on mid-morning almond milk lattes, and capping off the week with a glass of wine or two. With no youngins’ to take care of and no plans to buy a condo anytime soon, what’s the harm in dropping $15 on a mani twice a month?

Unfortunately, I owe a woman by the name of Sallie Mae quite a bit of dough. While I’ve been chipping away at my student loan for a few years now, I’m finally starting to see my debt approach a manageable amount (aka less than the cost of a brand-new Prius). In the interest of saving up for my dream vacation in Italy (and not paying five digits in interest alone), I want to make an effort to cut back on frivolous spending and knock out my student loan instead. And it all starts this week, as I attempt to, in the words of Lil’ Dicky, save dat money.

The outcome

Per ushe, I felt hella confident when Monday morning rolled around: I’d already stocked up on groceries and planned meals for the entire week, I didn’t have any after work happy hour invites, and there weren’t any major weekend events scheduled. But as the week dragged on, it was harder and harder to keep my purse strings tight. Here’s a recap:

Monday

Successfully made it through today without pulling out my wallet. Feeling extremely proud of myself – and John Cena confident about the week ahead.

Tuesday

Shit. Totally forgot I’d promised to grab lunch today with an old friend until it popped up on my calendar. I felt terrible canceling since we made plans weeks ago, and I didn’t want to blame it on my blog or admit that I was trying to save a few bones (how lame does that sounds?). Besides shelling out $7.32 for the most delicious bagel and lox in Chicago, I didn’t spend a dime today.

Wednesday

Woke up this morning with an intense craving for a Potbelly egg sandwich outfitted with lettuce, cheese, tomato, and mustard. Instead of swinging by on my way into work, I, surprisingly, whipped up a homemade version, saving myself four bucks. I surprised myself again after lunch when I settled for a free latte from our office coffee machine instead of the almond milk latte and a toasted almond donut that I actually wanted.

Thursday

I felt empowered going into today. Besides lunch on Tuesday, I hadn’t spent a single dime this week. And then all hell broke loose when our office cafeteria decided to sell Chick-Fil-A sandwiches during lunch. Those of you born and raised in the Midwest might not be familiar with the god-sent fast food chain Chick-Fil-A, but believe me: it’s the best chicken sandwich you’ll consume in your entire life. Here it was being basically delivered to my mouth and I had to resist because of my dumbass blog. While everyone else devoured crispy chicken sandwiches smothered with Polynesian sauce, I ate my homemade lunch of sausages and broccoli, and sulked.

Friday

I worked remotely this morning, which means I ventured to my favorite local coffee shop to get down to business. And since it's rude to suck up someone's Wi-Fi without buying anything, I splurged on a strawberry & blueberry parfait and a hot Americano. I probably should’ve stayed home and rummaged the cabinet for cereal or half-assed an omelet, but the parfait was bomb.

Saturday

Today was rough. After my car battery died in the Jewel Osco parking lot, I blew $117 at Walmart on a new battery (which I needed to drive safely) and another $20 on shampoo and nail polish while I waited for my car (which I needed to relieve the stress).

Sunday

Looking back on the week, I feel disappointed in myself for not resisting the green monster as much as I’d wanted. I may as well order pizza tonight and drown this week’s failure in a brand-new bottle of Malbec.

I shouldn’t have said this week was a total failure. I managed to refrain from spending money on my biggest vices: superfluous dinners, vino, and Banana Republic. But while I was so focused on not dropping dough on big-ticket items, I forgot about those seemingly small impulse purchases – and those are the ones that really add up (to $153.32, to be exact). Going forward, I’m going to keep a close eye on my wallet when I’m mindlessly wandering Target or have the urge to drop 45 cents on a soda I don’t need. And hopefully, I’ll pay off my student loan before I accrue another one.

I’m veggin’ out next week – don’t miss it. 

[resolutionproject]

Week 33: Turn on the southern charm

The origin

Being born and bred in the south is completely different than being raised anywhere else in the United States. For starters, the vernacular would make any high school English teacher want to vomit. Verbs like reckon and fixin' are permanent staples in everyone's vocabulary. And don't even get me started on y'all.

But the differing vocab is just the tip of the iceberg. Once you journey below Missouri, jorts become an acceptable item of clothing, the drink of choice is an ice-cold beer, and everyone – including your 87-year-old neighbor – drives a truck. It might sound like I'm poking fun (and I am), but there's actually a lot I miss about the south. Like the mouthwatering, fat-filled, gravy-drenched cuisine. No one makes mac and cheese quite like a southern grandma. And you won't find better fried chicken anywhere else in the world – I bet you a million bucks.

The other thing I miss about the south: the southern charm. Strangers don’t hesitate before striking up a conversation in the grocery store about the disappointing avocado selection. Everyone over the age of 50 refers to anyone under the age of 50 as sweetie or honey. Even your worst enemies will share a smile with you. I'm not sure if it's the warmer weather, the food, or just the culture, but people in the south are overall nicer human beings than the rest of the U.S. 

I've been a southern for nearly 80% of my life, but I definitely don't act like it. When I moved to Chicago, I lost my southern charm, and replaced it with skepticism and sass. But this week, I'm bringing it back.

The outcome

You might be wondering what 'southern charm' technically entails. Don’t worry, I googled it for you  and what I found is basically this: Southern charm means being polite to everyone – regardless of who they are. And that’s what I attempted to do this week.

The first few days, I was intimidated. I didn’t know how people – especially strangers – would react to unsolicited politeness. But as the week dragged on, I got more comfortable with my reinvented southern-charm-filled self – and it seemed like others did, too. No one gave me a dirty look for holding the door open or told me to f*** off after I thanked them. If my southern grandma were still alive, she’d probably scold me with “I reckon you shoulda been actin’ like that all along”. And I have to admit, amping up the southern charm made me feel better about myself, too. Like who cares if I didn’t make it to HIIT this morning, I just did something nice for a stranger kind of better.

In case you’re searching for ways to release your own southern side, here’s a handful of grandma-approved gestures to get you started:

-Hold the door open for everyone (if you’re a woman, this includes men, too)

-Give up your seat on the bus to someone who isn’t pregnant or old, but just looks tired or is juggling a million shopping bags (which means his or her legs are probably aching after all that walking)

-Say hello or good morning (obviously depending on the time of day) and goodbye or thanks (obviously depending on the situation)

-Offer a hand if you see someone struggling – whether they’re trying to balance a cup of coffee, their laptop, and muffin or debating which cheese to purchase at Trader Joe’s (always recommend the Syrah-soaked parmesan)

-Be that person who grabs extra chairs for people when there aren’t enough (that person is always the best person)

-Don’t be stingy with compliments, like I used to be

-Share. That includes your food (I’m still working on this one)

Coming up: Watch next week as I struggle to not spend a dime.

[resolutionproject]

Week 32: Get shit done

The origin

When it comes to strong suits, I've got a handful. I make a mean pre-game playlist; I know where at least four out of six Kardashians are at any given time;I can hold my own in croquet. And best (or worst) of all, I procrastinate like a 5th year college student (if you follow this blog regularly, you've probably noticed that already). But it’s not just blog posts I postpone – it’s small projects at work, phone calls with my best friend, chores around the apartment. I thought extreme procrastination was a phase that disappeared after college graduation, but I’m a 26-year-old working adult and I’m still in it. I attribute some of my usual deferment to my packed schedule (I have happy hours to attend, hello), some to poor time management (American Horror Story > laundry), and some to complete laziness (what can I say? It happens).

My procrastination has never resulted in any serious consequences – I still have a job and I’m not dead. But it has caused unnecessary expenses when I postponed paying my credit card bill, wasted time when I put off getting an oil change until after 5:00pm, and may result in me never owning a puppy (because you actually have to trek your ass to the rescue center in order to adopt one). To put it lightly, I need to get my shit together.

Since I’ve been procrastinating in one way or another since kindergarten, I knew this would be a difficult habit to break. For assistance, I turned to the trusty world wide web, and quickly stumbled upon this article from Lifehack containing tips to stop procrastinating. With advice like  ‘Eliminate your procrastination pit stops’ and ‘Get a grip’, I figured it was just the article to whip my procrastinating behind into shape.  

The outcome

On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rate this week’s success a 6. I whittled both my work email and my personal email down to zero (which hasn’t happened since I was, like, 14), checked off almost every item on my to-do list, and still found time for a glass (or three) of wine. The reason I didn’t give this week a 10? It’s been 3 weeks since the challenge and I’m just now getting around to the blog post. Major oops.

Since I relied on the Lifehack tips like Lil’ Wayne relies on sizzurp, I figured I’d recap my favorites and let you in on a few secrets I learned along the way.  

Give yourself a deadline.

I’m not a fool – this is already something I do for work tasks. But as nerdy as it sounds, I found employing deadlines for my personal to dos (like making overdue reservations for dinner with friends or starting to fundraise for my upcoming 10K) forced me to check those suckers off my list swiftly.  

Change your environment.

When it comes to being creative (aka my job), one of the biggest reasons I procrastinate is because I’m just not feelin’ it. In that situation, Lifehack suggests trying a different workspace to inspire creativity. Instead of banging out headlines at my desk, I relocated – to the cafeteria, a quiet meeting room on a different floor, even the rooftop lounge. And each time, I found myself strangely motivated to put my fingers to the keys.

Don’t overcomplicate things.

One of my weaknesses (besides procrastination, obvs) is perfectionism. Before I’ll allow myself to post an entry here, I re-read it four to five times, agonizing over every phrase, every word choice, every n-dash. In fact, I’ve already re-written this paragraph twice. But in an effort to actually complete a post, I have to let go a little, stop overcomplicating it, and just hit ‘submit’.

Hang out with people who inspire you – or just stalk them on the internet.

If I had a group of affluent, young writerly friends, then sure, we’d all meet for coffee to chat whenever one of us was suffering from writer’s block. But unfortunately (or fortunately, I haven’t decided yet), my group of friends would rather hit up a concert or play a game of beer pong than inspire one another. Instead, whenever I feel a block coming on, I browse my favorite blogs (like this one) or read a few chapters of Mindy Kaling’s Why not me?. It instantly inspires me to create and always leaves a smile on my face or a new recipe in my mind.

If it takes less than 2 minutes, do it now.  

This is a tip I stumbled upon when doing initial research for this challenge and I thought it was genius. The idea is simple – if the task you’re considering postponing takes less than two minutes, just go ahead and tackle it now. I tried this with emails. If I received an email I could respond to in a few minutes, I’d reply immediately instead of flagging it for follow up and then forgetting about it (per ushe).

Nothing ruins a delicious post-dinner glass of wine like a to do list as long as Lindsey Lohan’s record, which is why, three weeks later, I’m still using these same tips to get shit done. And while I’m slightly disappointed I wasn’t able to get this post up sooner, at least it’s happening now instead of never (the ultimate procrastination).

I’m heading back down south next week, ya’ll. Don’t forget to drop by.

[resolutionproject]

Week 31: Share a compliment

The origin I don't know about you, but nothing puts a smile on my face faster than receiving a compliment (except maybe a bottomless mimosa bar). It's a verbal pat on the back, a spoken thumbs up. Like you're wearing or doing or saying something so awesome, it's worthy of praise. Even if I'm having a horrendous day, hearing someone say they like my shoes or the joke I told during the last meeting or even my left pinky finger makes me feel exponentially happier. Almost as happy as if both Leo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck invited me out for after work drinks (I said almost). And giving a compliment is almost as amazing as receiving one. Besides possibly making the complimentee feel as though they've been invited to drinks with two of Hollywood’s top bachelors, sharing a verbal high-five makes you, the complimenter, cheerier too. Your kind words can also spark creativity, build trust, and, arguably the most important benefit, guarantee that you'll receive a return compliment in the future. I've received my fair share of compliments throughout the years. And while I've dropped a few here and there, I've definitely been stingier with them than necessary. It's not that I don't want to tell someone their Michael Jackson tribute tee rocks - it's that I'm usually too shy to share it. Instead, I admire their tee from afar and just keep my mouth shut. But I'm tired of not sharing my love for Michael Jackson with strangers, which is why this week, I'm pulling an Oprah – and handing out compliments like free cars.

The outcome

I went into this week feeling reasonably confident, but, per ushe, racked with nerves at the thought of interacting with strangers. What if the complimentee initiated an awkward conversation or worse – completely ignored me? This irrational fear caused me to strategically choose the time and place I delivered my compliments. Like on the short walk from the bus stop to my office or while waiting on the elevator in the building lobby. I avoided places like crowded a.m. busses and long-ass lunch lines, where people are more likely to a) feel trapped by awkward conversations with strangers and b) feel the need to keep the conversation flowing, despite the awkwardness.

Apparently, I have a terrible attitude towards strangers in big cities, though, because no matter the situation, people were almost always willing to initiate a short conversation after receiving a compliment – and it was almost never awkward. There were only a few instances where I received a smile or a nod instead of an actual response, but hey, I’ll count that as a success.

Much to the surprise of no one, my co-workers and friends were more receptive to compliments than strangers were. I found it was an excellent way to initiate a conversation when I didn’t want to talk about the impending winter or how the office cafeteria was selling rotten bananas again. I also found it an efficient way to deliver bad news. People immediately warmed up once I offered a compliment, which made confessing that “Sorry, I can’t meet your deadline” or “No, I don’t want to hit up yet another dive bar on Saturday” a little less intimidating.

During my seven days of complimenting others non-stop, the easiest part was definitely coming up with the actual compliments. I’m always coveting random women’s fashion forward shoes and handbags, my girl friends’ on fleek clothes, and my co-workers’ sweet desk accessories. The hardest part: convincing everyone from coworkers to my boyfriend to my mom that I didn’t have an ulterior agenda. (For some reason, people always associate niceness with shadiness).

Next up: I’m facing my worst vice – and it isn’t binge-drinking vino.

[resolutionproject]

Week 30: Bare it all

The origin There are a handful of defining moments in life that really solidify the transition from a girl to a grown-ass woman. I won’t get into all the deets, but, for me, one of those moments was the first time I wore makeup to school. Like most young girls, I occasionally played with my mom’s makeup stash – meaning I just smeared it on my face like war paint – but I was never interested in actually learning the craft until 7th grade, when the other girls in my class started coming to school with shiny, overly pink lips, colors on their eyelids, and even mascara. A FOMO-er from an early age, I obviously didn’t want to be cast as the ‘ugly girl’ due to my lack of concealer and lipgloss. I knew immediate action had to be taken.

After school one day, my friend Hanna and I dropped by the local drugstore to purchase a few makeup items with our hard-earned allowance. I remember my selections like it was yesterday: a light purple Covergirl eye shadow; Wet N’ Wild bronzer; an eyebrow brush; the vanilla frosting flavored Lip Smackers (it really tasted like icing). The next day, I woke up extra early to try out my new goodies. As soon as I ventured downstairs for breakfast, I was stopped dead in my tracks by my mom – and interrogated about what was on my face. After a lot of begging (and maybe a mini-tantrum or two), I left the house wearing makeup for the first time.

Since then, I’ve always had an arsenal of beauty products that I’ve used religiously each morning. In college, I made sure my bare face was fully covered before I left for my 8am class. I’ve even been a loyal Birchbox member for the past three years, hoarding more lipsticks and eye shadows than I know what to do with.

Lately though, during recent after work happy hours and weeknight dinners, I’ve noticed that most of my girl friends brave work without a lick of makeup. With my face fully painted, I felt like a clown compared to them. When I questioned one of my friends about it, she shrugged and said, “I just don’t give a shit.” They didn’t feel the need to waste time getting dolled up each morning. But for some reason, I did. I couldn’t imagine walking out the door without – at minimum – a few dabs of concealer and a swipe of mascara. And that got me thinking – why wasn’t I more confident in my own skin? Why did I feel the need to cover up every blemish, red spot, and pale cheek while others were happy to parade around in the figurative nude?

Well, I’m not going to hide behind a mask of makeup this week. I’m stashing my stash and challenging myself to bare it all.

The outcome

This week was reminiscent of that time I stepped outside my comfort zone for seven days straight. I’ve deliberately left my face bare on weekends – especially if I’m just running to the grocery store or meeting friends for brunch. But the thought of walking into work sans makeup was so nerve-wracking that I tried to come up with a completely different challenge to tackle. And when a pesky pimple popped up Sunday night, I almost threw in the towel altogether. I was terrified of those “Are you sick?” or “You look exhausted” remarks I’d received in the past when I’d skimped on my usual morning routine.

But come Monday, I braved the corporate world with minimal makeup. I’ll admit that I didn’t go completely bare – I couldn’t force myself out the door without attempting to camouflage that pimple with some concealer and a light dusting of powder. But I managed to bypass most of my go-to’s: mascara, blush, highlighter, and, my all-time favorite, red lipstick. Much to my surprise, those products went unused for the entire week – and I actually enjoyed it. Of course, there were a few low points, but I’ll let you read about those for yourself. Here’s a rundown of the pros and cons from this week:  

PROS

I actually had time for breakfast. Forgoing makeup saved me roughly 15 minutes each morning, which left just enough time to construct an egg sandwich.

Without all the layers of chemicals smothering it, my skin actually had a chance to breathe. That pimple disappeared in less than 24 hours and I had a Jennifer Aniston-like glow all week.

On Friday night, I fell asleep without washing my face – and I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it.

If I happened to get caught in a torrential downpour or experienced a sudden excessive crying bout, I wouldn’t have to worry about my mascara running.

CONS

Half the fun of hitting the town on the weekend is getting dolled up. Without my typical Friday night routine, an evening out with friends lost a little luster.

Even though my skin was on it’s A-game, there were definitely moments where my confidence experienced a slight dip due to lack of highlighter and red lip.

I missed my beauty products. After investing so much time and money into them, it was depressing to watch them sit under the skin, unused.

My Birchbox arrived early and I wasn’t able to try any of the samples for an entire week. It was torture.  

I hate to admit it, but since this challenge ended, I’ve returned to my typical morning routine. I can’t help it. I’m just as obsessed with blushes and highlighters and bronzers today as I was back when I was a little girl. I definitely gained a new appreciation for women who are confident enough to bare it all. And while I’ll probably never join them, I’ll continue to admire their bravery from afar.

I’m doling out compliments next week – stop by for yours.

[resolutionproject]

Week 29: Swear off swearing

The origin

For this post, I'd planned on regaling you with the riveting story of the first time a four-letter word escaped my mouth. But after wracking my brain for days, I couldn't come up with anything. I even called my mom, hoping there was some defining moment in my childhood where I'd shouted the F word as I slammed my bedroom door in a fury of angst. But all she offered was "I think you said ‘hell’ once." My friends all have tales of letting some banned curse word slip during the critical years of their youth. I even remember my younger sister's first blunder (she mumbled "shit" under her breath when she ran out of lives in Super Mario). Yet I can't recall a single time where I uttered a swear word under the age of 16. Which makes sense when you consider the fact that my parents rarely cursed around the house. I've heard my dad swear a handful of times and I've only heard it from my mom once (the time I drove my Pontiac Sunfire straight through our garage door in high school).

However, if you met me today, you might assume I'd been raised in a household where four-letter words were as common as the evening dinner prayer. In college, I developed quite the sailor's mouth. And it's only gotten worse since I started a career in advertising, where jeans and sandals are the attire of choice, happy hour is any time after 12:00pm, and the casual use of f-bombs is encouraged. I whole-heartedly believe there's a time and place for swearing. When you step in cat vomit in the middle of the night or miss a critical morning meeting because you overslept, there's no better feeling than shouting an obscenity. But I've caught myself one-too-many times dropping the f-bomb in casual conversation (and frustrated work emails). I'm on the verge of 27 and sooner or later (hopefully later), I'll be tasked with raising a tiny human or at least helping someone else raise one (cough, sister). I don't want my foul language to be the reason someone's child gets sent to the principal's office. I needed to clean up my language stat.

The outcome

Before I dive into my account of this week, let’s discuss how difficult it was to find alternatives for my favorite four-letter words. I had to dig deep and pull from the arsenal of the mom-approved expletives I used in my youth: bummer, fudge, rats, friggin’, crap, shoot, shucks. Whenever I felt a profanity on the tip of my tongue, I tried substituting one of the above. It felt awkward – none of the substitute swears sounded natural coming from my mouth. And none had the same impact. There's something about the aggressive consonants of ‘f**k’ and ‘s**t’ that's so satisfying.

Despite my inventory of inoffensive profanities, I struggled to keep my conversations clean. At the beginning of the week, I caught myself mid-swear on multiple occasions – while gossiping with girl friends, in text messages to my boyfriend, during a particularly frustrating meeting at work. I even found myself whispering swears when I was alone. The only time I didn’t slip up was during my mid-week phone call with my mom. As soon as I heard her voice, my brain immediately sent signals to my mouth to censor itself – and nary a swear escaped my lips throughout our entire 45-minute conversation.

That got me thinking: maybe if I treated every conversation like it was a phone call with my mom, I’d be less likely to drop the f-bomb. For the rest of the week, I employed this tactic – sending a mental note to my mouth before every conversation that I should speak as though I’m conversing with my mother. And surprisingly, it worked. I successfully avoided all four-letter words. I also discovered, that, for the most part, I didn’t even need my back-ups curses. In everyday chatter, I was treating profanities as adjectives to enhance the conversation, but it was totally unnecessary. My coworkers still engaged in discussions with me; my friends still thought I was funny. I didn’t need those extra words cluttering up my dialogue.

I still stand behind my belief that four-letter words are a necessity in life (don’t forget about the cat vomit). But I realized that over the years, they’ve become a staple in my everyday vocabulary instead of an occasional addition. I’m not making any promises for the future. But I will attempt to save swear words for dire situations – and keep the rest of my conversations mom-approved.

I’m baring it all next week. Stay tuned.  

[resolutionproject]

Week 28: No complaints

The origin

When it comes to life, I’m extremely blessed. I live in a not-too-shabby apartment within walking distance of a dozen bars. I make a decent salary. I have a fantastic boyfriend and a great group of close friends. I even own a Dyson vacuum for crying out loud. When a problem does arise, it’s usually of the first world sort. Take last Monday, for example. The worst part of my day was when our satellite TV cut out due to the storm and I wasn’t able to DVR Bachelor in Paradise, my latest guilty pleasure.

But lately, I’ve found myself complaining more than usual when those problems arise. Like when I have to stand on the bus because it’s too crowded. Or when the waitress takes a few minutes too long to grab my brunch order. Work is where my complaining is the worst. I get paid to do what I love – write – and I still find things to complain about. My coworkers and I usually spend our lunch hour bitching about whatever we can – the other people we work with, the types of projects we’re working on, the shitty coffee in the office, you name it.

I’ve been feeling guilty about my excessive complaining lately. I know there are people in the world facing problems more serious than the Starbucks barista botching their morning coffee order.  

That’s why I vowed hold my tongue this week – and look at the positive side of life instead.

The outcome

I didn’t realize what a tough challenge this would be until I barely missed my bus on Monday morning and immediately pulled out my phone to bitch to my boyfriend. Before I could stop myself, I’d sent three texts complaining about the ridiculous long wait times in between buses (only 5 minutes) and the fact that I had to wait outside for the next one (in gorgeous, sunny 75 degree weather). As soon as another, less crowded bus came rolling through, I felt terrible that I’d been so quick to complain in the first place and I promised to think before opening my mouth (or whipping out my cell phone).

The rest of the week was tough – especially when it came to the office. As I suspected, my daily lunch with coworkers was the most challenging. When they started complaining about a tight deadline or a frustrating coworker, I found myself mute. I was so used to exchanging grievances – I had no idea what to talk about otherwise. I grasped for other viable topics: the upcoming storm, our weekend plans, the latest Jurassic Park film. But those didn’t seem to gain as much traction as the bitching. Towards the end of the week, I stumbled upon the solution: if I introduced a topic first, my friends were happy to dive into a discussion and the conversation was more likely to remain positive.

While I struggled to avoid trash talking around the office, after work was a different story. Dinner at our apartment is usually served with a side of bitchiness – either from my boyfriend or me. But this week, that was almost non-existent. I made a conscious effort to avoid all complaining. And thankfully, so did he. Towards the end of the week, I noticed that when our conversations veered away from negative topics, we were both happier – even without our usual bottle of wine.

I definitely had a few slip ups this week (i.e. gossiping with my girl friends over drinks), but I kept my conversations (more or less) clean. What surprised me the most this week was how second nature complaining appeared to be. I never would’ve labeled myself a complainer, yet most sentences out of my mouth begin with a protest or criticism. Another surprise: how much others complain. It wasn’t just my coworkers – it was other professionals on the bus, strangers on the street, my mom. It was apparent how crucial of a role complaining plays in our society.

I know there’ll still be times when I complain about Jewel Osco selling out of guacamole packets or how it took me more than 10 seconds to find a parking spot outside my apartment. But I’ll aim to keep to a few times a week instead of a few times a day.

Next week’s challenge is a friggin’ biotch. Don’t miss it. 

[resolutionproject]

Week 27: Kick caffeine to the curb

The origin

It’s hard to pin point exactly when my caffeine addiction started. In high school, I viewed frothy, overly sweet coffee drinks as dessert instead of a morning necessity. Our local Starbucks was a popular late night hangout for curfew abiding teens. On weekends, my friends and I would swing by for vanilla bean frappuccinos post Little Caesar’s pig-out and pre Leo movie marathon. The local gas station sold a quick-serve version of a Starbucks frappe that was half the price, but just as delicious – and I’d frequently stop to pick one up on my way home from school. Even when I started college, coffee was simply an occasional afternoon treat – I think I was more addicted to the sugar than the caffeine.

I guess it was the move to Chicago and the long days (and nights) I spent writing hundreds of headlines and lines of copy at Portfolio School that drove me to increase my caffeine intake. The school was within walking distance of both Einstein Bros Bagels and 7-11. Both stores sold reusable coffee mugs, which got you a free initial coffee and unlimited refills for only $1.00. Embarrassingly enough, I owned one from each store. In the winter, I stocked up on the various latte flavors 7-11 served. In the summer, I downed iced coffees from Einstein’s. My addiction only intensified when I started a serving job that had me on my feet until 3am. And when coffee wasn’t strong enough, I’d turn to sugar-free Red Bull.

Entering the working world didn’t curtail my caffeine consumption, either. With unlimited coffee options available in the office, I’m averaging 2-3 cups a day: 1-2 cups of black coffee in the morning and a latte around 3:00 (when the afternoon slump hits). Sometimes, though, I feel as though I'm grabbing a cup just because – I'm rarely in need of the caffeine. Lately, it’s become less of an occasional indulgence and more of a daily habit. Obviously, the negative effects of caffeine aren't anything to rejoice about – it even has it’s own Web MD page full of frightening side effects.

I’ve tried taking a break from alcohol and kicking my shopping addiction  – now it was time to give up my last vice, caffeine.

The outcome

I know caffeine withdrawal is no joke, and I didn’t want to dive headfirst into this challenge completely blind. Before bidding caffeine goodbye, I jumped on Google to find out what I was up against. For the most part, the withdrawal symptoms were just as I had expected – headaches, sleepiness, irritability. But there were a few that were more serious, like depression, lack of concentration, and insomnia. Since I didn’t consider myself a caffeine addict, I didn’t expect to experience any of these. Boy, was I terribly wrong. To ensure you felt the excruciating pain I did all week, here’s an account of my caffeine-free week pulled my notes on my iPhone:

Monday

7:50am. I’m dragging a little this morning, but it is a Monday – my sloth-like speed is nothing out of the ordinary. Walking out the door without a mug of coffee is depressing, but mostly because I won’t have anything hot to sip on during my grueling Monday morning meetings.

4:02pm. I can feel a monster headache starting to form, but its cause could be all the sweets I’ve had today to make up for the lack of caffeine. Maybe if I stop thinking about it, it’ll go away…

9:45pm. It’s not even 10pm yet and I’ve fallen asleep twice on the couch. Time to hit the hay.

Tuesday

7:15am. I woke up this morning extremely groggy with zero energy. Just got home from my 6am weight-lifting class and I’m tempted to take a nap. I’m already dreading work today without caffeine.

9:36am. My co-worker just offered me a freshly French pressed mug of home roasted coffee beans. I can’t decide if I want to murder him or just crawl under my desk for quick snooze session.

2:59pm. I haven’t been able to shake the grogginess all day. I feel like I’m walking around in a fog. My concentration and productivity are definitely suffering – it takes all of my energy to focus on one task. And that damn headache from yesterday afternoon is back.

8:00pm. Had a glass a wine to try and stop the headache (but mostly because I just wanted a glass of wine). Didn’t help. I can already tell tonight is going to be an early night, too. My eyes are already half-way shut.

Wednesday

8:02am. I finally have something positive to say about my situation. Due to the lack of caffeine coursing through my veins, I slept like a baby last night. I only got up once in the middle of the night and I fell back asleep instantly. I still feel exhausted, though, despite my 8+ hours of sleep and deep REM cycles.

10:37am. My headache appeared earlier than usually today. I popped a few Advil, but that didn’t seem to help. I caved and made a cup of (very minimally caffeinated) green tea. In my defense, I’ve felt like I was going to hit the floor at any moment – or even one of my coworkers. I needed it for my sanity.

4:22pm. My headache is still raging on. Caved again and drank another cup of green tea. Today blows.

Thursday

7:56am. Woke up exhausted again, but impressed by the quality of my sleep last night (rock-like, if you know what I mean). Attempted another early workout sans coffee and survived. I’m feeling good about today.

3:03pm. My daily headache hasn’t appeared yet, and, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t miss it. I’m starting to think I might have overcome the worst of my caffeine withdrawals. And I have enough energy for drinks with co-workers. HALLELUJAH.

Friday

6:42am. Feeling pretty confident about today again after my lack of a headache yesterday. I feel like I’ve officially kicked my caffeine addiction. Just wondering how long I can hold out next week…

I can’t complain about next week’s challenge because, well, you’ll have to wait to find out.

[resolutionproject]

Week 26: Put a smile on

The origin

Whenever I venture back down South, the politeness of strangers always surprises me. They’ll casually chat with you about the weather in line at Starbucks or strike up a conversation about their favorite eggplant recipe in the grocery store. When you’re strolling down the street, people hand out smiles like candy on Halloween and every nice gesture on the road receives a courtesy wave or a tip of the cowboy hat.

In Chicago, it’s almost the complete opposite. There aren’t any courtesy waves – instead people honk if you don’t gun the engine the second the light turns green. And the only strangers sharing smiles are begging for money. Lately I’ve noticed that living in this every-man-for-himself city has hardened me a little. I don’t make casual conversation with people on the bus – in fact, I barely even talk to my first floor neighbor – and I’ve replaced my usual soft smile with a permanent Resting Bitch Face. Even my mannerisms at work are more Kristen Stewart than Julia Roberts.  

My Southern grandma would scoff in disgust if she heard me honk my horn at someone for driving too slowly, or saw me hustle into work without acknowledging the women at the front desk with a cheery “Good morning, y’all!” And to be honest, I was a little disappointed, too. I pride myself on being a Southern belle – but I definitely hadn’t been acting like it lately.

My grandma’s impending disappointment is the inspiration for this week’s challenge. I’m vowing to exchange my RBF for a BFS (Big Fat Smile) and make her proud.

The outcome

I’m sure the description above makes it sound as though I never smile, and that’s definitely not the case. A lot of things cause me to crack a smile: hearing one of my favorite songs on a random Spotify playlist; receiving the Lucky Dozen email from Starbucks; anything that Aziz Ansari says. But like I mentioned, when it comes to doling out smiles at random, I’m hesitant.  

My goal for the week was to smile as much as possible (and avoid that RBF as much as possible) without coming across like a lunatic or an extreme stoner. For once, I didn’t have any expectations going into a challenge. I didn’t do any research on the mental affects of smiling (although I admit I Googled it this morning) and I didn’t have any specific results in mind. But I was eager to see how a simple gesture could change my entire mood.

The beginning of the week, I was on a business trip (back down South) where my job was to interact solely with strangers. For the first few hours, I almost forgot excessive smiling was my resolution – it came so naturally. Everyone was friendly, and I had a blast chatting, laughing, and gossiping with both our customers and my coworker. And the rest of the trip went just as smoothly. Being the first to offer a smile made me more approachable – customers were more likely to start a conversation and continue chatting when I appeared genuinely excited to be listening to what they had to say.

Returning to Chicago mid-week was a little nerve-racking. Exhausted from traveling, I was not looking forward to spending my hump day forcing a smile. It was actually the last thing I wanted to do, especially before I’d downed my first cup of coffee. But once I cracked a smile, it was easy to keep it on. Everyone was more receptive – from strangers on the street, to coworkers, to bystanders on the bus – and almost everyone smiled in return. I was surprised by its contagiousness – I thought only yawns and summer colds were that shareable. 

And it wasn’t just others who noticed a difference. I noticed one as well. Constantly grinning made me feel more confident. Marilyn Monroe was on point when she said, “A smile is the best accessory a girl can wear.” I felt like pre-2007 Britney Spears – steazing my way around town with a smile on. And it wasn’t just the confidence boost that caused my swagger – it was my heightened mood as well. I noticed that smiling, even when things were shitty or I was stressed, immediately shed a positive light on the situation.

They say it takes more muscles to force a smile than to flash a frown – and I believe it. Remembering to constantly grin throughout the week required more effort than I thought was possible. But even when smiling was the last expression I wanted to show, I was always glad I did. From now on, I’m going to aim for more BFS and less RBF – for the sake of my sanity and everyone around me.

You might catch me snoozing during next week’s challenge – I’m kicking caffeine to the curb.

[resolutionproject]

Week 25: Be a tourist in my own town

The origin This past spring marked my four year anniversary of living in Chi-town. While I’ve still clung to my Tennessee driver’s license and 865 area code, I truly feel like Chicago is home. I have a favorite grocery store; I grab brunch at the same spot a few times a month; the instructors at the local gym know me by name. After four years, my day-to-day in Chicago has become the norm.

And that’s what it is to me – completely normal. I work a 9-5 job, cook dinner at home during the week, and hit up the neighborhood bars on the weekend. Until I get caught on a crowded train packed with post-Lollapalooza attendees or attempt to window shop on Michigan Avenue, it’s easy to forget that I live in a popular tourist destination (Chicago is actually the most visited city in America).

I’ve taken part in most of the typical tourist activities in Chicago – I’ve indulged in deep dish; I’ve braved the glass overlook in the Sears Tower; I’ve touched the bean more times that I can count; I’ve sipped cocktails from the 95th floor of the Hancock building; I’ve spent the day on Navy Pier. But most of those took place when I first moved to Chicago or just slightly afterwards – it’s been almost three years since I’ve done anything like that. Lately, I’ve been feeling as though I take my residence in Chicago for granted (I’m even ashamed to admit I’ve stopped venturing downtown on St. Patrick’s Day each year to see the river dyed green).

With hot summer days and breezy summer nights finally arriving in Chicago, I wanted to take advantage of everything the city had to offer – even if that meant strapping on a fanny pack and being mistaken for a tourist.

The outcome

Like I mentioned, I’ve already tackled quite a few tourist activities. But like most big cities, I assumed Chicago had an entire list of off-the-beaten-path suggestions I could partake in. My first stop: Google. Which is where I found this list the nice people at Thrillist threw together. With suggestions like Close down a 4am bar and Get tamales from the Tamale Guy, it’s the golden ticket of Chicago bucket lists.

Ready to once again take on the windy city like a tourist, I made a few reservations, purchased some tickets, and tackled the week head on. Here’s what I checked off my Chicago bucket list:

Order a cheezborger and chips at the Billy Goat Tavern

The Billy Goat Tavern, inspired by an SNL skit, is a Chicago classic known for its no-frills menu and extensive history of pet goats. The menu consists of different variations of cheeseburgers (pronounced ‘cheezborgers’) and kettle chips instead of French fries. And, of course, Pepsi products. After work on Monday, I met my boyfriend at its oldest location underneath Michigan Avenue and indulged in a double cheezborger with chips. I even passed on the Pepsi for their signature cocktail, the Horny Goat. Everything was delicious – except the cocktail – and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t tried the food before. We left extremely full, slightly tipsy, and vowing to return soon. Indulge in a gourmet donut

I’m not sure exactly when the gourmet donut craze hit Chicago but today, there’s nearly 30 shops around the city that offer only donuts and coffee. When it comes to pastries, I’m partial to scones and cinnamon rolls so donuts have always taken a backseat. But with all the recent hype, I had to try one for myself. Conveniently enough, there’s a Doughnut Vault (the first shop mentioned on this list) in the base of my office building. I snagged the Vanilla Almond flavor during my daily walk around the building and holy shit – talk about delicious! The old-fashioned style was so thick and the toppings were just sweet enough to give me a slight sugar high. I haven’t been back since (working on that summer body!), but it’s cakey, doughy deliciousness makes me linger outside the shop for a few extra minutes during my daily walk.

Watch a flick in Millennium Park

Millennium Park is a must-see for all tourists. Comprised of large grassy areas and an ice rink, the park is ideal for late spring picnics and early winter ice-skating. In the summertime, however, the pavilion plays a different movie each week on a huge LED screen, and this week it was Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory – one of my favorites. I packed a bag with cheese, crackers, and sandwiches, grabbed a bottle of wine and a blanket, and ventured to the pavilion after work with friends. We posted up in the middle of the lawn and gasped, laughed, and drank through the entire movie. It was a blast – and besides purchasing the bottle of wine – completely free. I’m already checking out the line up for the rest of summer. 

Toss back some malört

As a Chicago resident for 4+ years, I’m extremely embarrassed to admit I’d never tried malört. Known for its disgusting bitter taste, malört is a local liquor that survived prohibition for its medicinal uses and the ability to make anyone cringe. It’s basically a stronger, more bitter absinthe. I’ve heard horror stories from friends that have taken a shot and had it immediately come back up. I’d like to be able to boast that I took it down like a badass, but I was way too chicken. Instead, I ordered a cocktail with malört as the main ingredient and sipped away like a sissy. And while it was delicious, I don’t see myself ordering another one anytime soon.

Catch a Cubs game from the bleacher seats

This was by far my most favorite bucket list item. On Friday, my boyfriend and I skipped work to catch the Cubs v. Phillies game at Wrigley Field. And since we wanted to do it as touristy as possible, we splurged for tickets in the coveted bleacher seats. In order to get the full Cubs game experience, we started the day at Cubby Bear for beers and appetizers and then made our way to the ballpark to secure seats for the first pitch. Even though the bleachers were packed (it’s first come, first serve) and it was blazing hot, we couldn’t have asked for a better Friday off from work – and now I can’t imagine seeing a game any other way.

All in all, this challenge was one of the most entertaining and most successful to date. Cruising around the city like a tourist was more amusing than I thought it would be and I actually discovered new ways to experience Chicago. After taking the windy city for granted these past four years, I learned to appreciate all that Chicago has to offer and soak up every second – even if it means stopping for a selfie at the bean once in a while.  

You might catch me cheesin’ next week – stay tuned!

[resolutionproject]

Week 24: Go paleo

The origin

As a health nut since high school, I’m no stranger to food crazes. From SlimFast to Atkins to vegetarianism, I’ve jumped on almost every health food bandwagon that rolled through – and immediately jumped off when something better came along. I’ve yet to completely adopt one fad as my own – both my successes & failures have been prominently displayed in Facebook albums for the world to see.

About a year ago, I started seeing the term ‘paleo’ (which I initially thought was pronounced puh-lay-o) pop up in blog posts and Instagram hashtags. My initial investigations led me to believe this new food craze was only for hard-core athletes – you know, those Crossfit types who workout in boxes instead of gyms and throw around the term WOD like it’s the hottest new slang. Since I’m not squatting 200+ pounds daily or doing burpees until I pass out, I assumed I wasn’t allowed into the exclusive paleo gang.

But then one of the regular bloggers I follow started posting about going paleo – and how it completely revolutionized her health. Her skin cleared up, her digestive problems disappeared, and she didn’t have anxiety anymore. Full discloser: she was into Crossfit., but she was…normal. She was around my size – not Hulk Hogan’s – and unlike a lot of devout paleo followers, she had no problem indulging in a glass of champagne at the end of a tough week.

After that, I noticed a lot of wine-drinking, gym-going women trying out paleo with tweet-worthy results. While I was only slightly familiar with the rules (lots of meat and veggies; no grains), this was one bandwagon I didn’t want to pass up.

The outcome

Just like the sugar-free challenge I tackled a few months ago, I struggled to find a go-to guide for paleo: some guidelines said to avoid eating sweet potatoes while other encouraged it; some recommended giving up alcohol while others reassured a glass of dry red wine was compliant. After a few days of research, I cobbled together a set of rules to live by for the week. Here’s the short list:

Eat lots of: meat (especially beef and bison – grass fed, if possible), vegetables, eggs, and healthy fats (almonds and macadamia nuts).

Go easy on: high sugar fruits and starchy veg (like sweet potatoes and squash).

Completely avoid: added sugar, grains, dairy, legumes (including peanuts and chickpeas), grain-based alcohols, and anything processed.

All in all, this week was a bit of a bust. I hate to admit it, but I threw in the towel about halfway through. I just didn’t have the time to dedicate to preparing paleo meals for lunch and dinner – and trying to find compliant paleo meals on the go was a wash. Despite my failure, it was an eye-opening experience. Here are the noteworthy discoveries from the days I obliged:

Unless you have easy access to a Whole Foods and an unlimited grocery budget, you're basically SOL

Most of the required paleo staples – grass-fed meat, nitrate-free bacon, every vegetable imaginable, ghee (clarified butter), raw nuts – are either impossible to find at a big box grocery store, or insanely expensive. Since I was only committing for a week, I didn’t mind dropping a little more dough than usual on grass-fed, organic ground beef. But I imagine it gets pretty damn pricey to stock your cart with those staples all the time.

Get ready to spend hours of your like prepping

I don’t mean prepping food (although there’s a little bit of that, too). I mean researching. I don’t know how many hours I spent the week before scouring the internet for paleo do’s and don’ts and easy recipes I could replicate without too much know-how.

Despite my initial concern, I didn’t experience cheese withdrawals

My main hesitation to trying paleo sooner was due to my love of cheese. At any given moment, I have at least 4 types of cheese in the fridge. I put cheddar on burgers and eggs; I sprinkle mozzarella on flatbreads; I pair various slices with crackers and deli turkey for a quick dinner. I was terrified at the thought of avoiding my cheese drawer for an entire week. Thankfully, I survived. And I didn’t miss it as much as I thought I would.

Macadamia nuts might be my new favorite

I never realized macadamia nuts had a place outside of cookies before. But I’ve kept them on constant rotation in my trail mix long after the challenge ended. They have the saltiness and crunchiness of a potato chip without all the shit that’s bad for you.

You can still drink on paleo – but barely

Per usual, this was a big concern when I started paleo. I wanted to know if I could still enjoy a glass of wine at the end of the day. I found this article which goes into detail, but the short of it is: vodka, gin, tequila, red wine, and hard cider are all in; beer, sweet wines, and dark colored liquors are out. While I have a new appreciation for Angry Orchard, I don’t think it’ll replace my Old Fashioneds.

There’s no decent paleo hangover breakfast

Unfortunately, I learned this the hard way. After one too many hard ciders, I woke up the next morning feeling a little rough. I quickly realized all of my go-to’s hangover breakfasts contained bread (bagels, egg sandwiches, toast). Since I was running late to work, I bent the rules and grabbed an egg sandwich from Potbelly. Not 100% paleo, although I did fill it with veggies and skip the cheese.

Making paleo choices while eating out is impossible

Restaurants use canola oil to grill chicken and meat. There’s usually butter on sautéed veggies. Most salad dressings have mayo. I consider myself pretty low maintenance when it comes to food. I’ll gladly request that my burger be served sans bun, but that’s as complicated as I’ll get. Otherwise, I feel like Sally  ordering at that diner.

Maybe before the year is up, I’ll take another stab at eating paleo. But for now, I’ll keep downing grilled cheeses (in moderation) and sipping whiskey.

I’m playing tourist next week – fanny pack and all.

[resolutionproject]

Week 23: Conquer the a.m.

The origin

As we all know, there’s 24 hours in a day. That’s 1,440 minutes, which sounds like a shitton until you consider all that tasks and events that typically take place: eating at least three meals, snoozing, preparing for work, commuting, scrounging for a snack, bathroom breaks, gossiping by the water cooler, sitting through multiple meetings, coffee breaks, cooking dinner, laundry, calling your mom, dishes, tending to your pet. With all that, there’s barely time to squeeze in an episode of the Bachlorette or a few pages of the latest beach read – and I don’t even have yougins to feed, bathe, assist with homework, tuck in, etc.

There are several days where I crawl into bed at night and wonder what the F I accomplished that day. Besides the usual grind, most days I have nothing else to show for my 1,440 minutes (except the occasional hangover). I was starting to feel bored, completely unmotivated, and – most troubling – totally worthless. One weekend when I was catching up on the plethora of blogs I follow, I found this post from The Everygirl challenging their readers to wake up 30 minutes earlier for 30 days to boost productivity in the a.m.

I only had 7 days to commit, but I figured that’d be enough time to restructure my mornings for optimum ass kicking.

The outcome

My usual rise n’ shine hour is around 7:00am. Sunday night, I set my alarm for 6:15am (already anticipating some snoozes) and dozed off. Although Monday morning arrived sooner than expected, I popped out of bed after only a few seconds of my alarm. I brewed myself a cup of coffee, booted up my laptop, and started chipping away at an overdue blog post – pausing after half an hour to scramble a slew of eggs and toast a a slice of bread. I followed the same routine on Tuesday and Wednesday – except I snuck in a gym session before browsing my favorite blogs and scouring the net for next week’s recipes.

After only three days of early rising, I noticed a difference. I felt happier – all of that a.m. me-time had me practically skipping into the office – and I was tossing out Steve Jobs-level ideas during mundane meetings. My brain was either benefiting from the pre-dawn hours or the insane amounts of caffeine I was downing.

The most notable difference was the spike in productivity. Since I was spending roughly 1.5 to 2 hours at home before heading out, I arrived at the office just in time to take advantage of my peak productivity (apparently, the ideal time to tackle a challenging task is 2 – 4 hours after you’re fully awake). Instead of easing into the workday by checking meaningless emails or perusing the news, I dove into the hardest task right away and knocked it out before the 3:00 post-lunch slump.  

The rest of the week followed the same pattern – even the weekends. I made it a point to set my alarm 30 minutes earlier and drag my ass out of bed to begin my day. I was more exhausted by day’s end, but that feeling of worthlessness had completely disappeared. I felt refreshed, alert, and prepared to tackle whatever was thrown my way. That Sunday night, I instinctively set my alarm for 6:15am again. While I immediately changed it to 7:00am (I needed to catch up on my zzz’s after all that early rising), I promised to make time for myself a few days a week – even if that meant sacrificing my beauty sleep.

Keep your spear close next week. I’m taking a trip back in time to the Paleozoic Era.

[resolutionproject]

Week 22: Don’t worry, be happy

The origin

I’ve always been a worrywart. As a child, I worried about not being able to fall asleep. I’d stare at my glow-in-the-dark star-clad ceiling, already stressing about how exhausted I’d be for 2nd grade in the morning. This resulted in tear-soaked pillows and my dad counting hundreds of sheep with me until I finally dozed off. In eighth grade, I worried I’d become anorexic. My anxiety stemmed solely from a documentary we watched in health class and even though I was fully aware it wasn’t a disease you caught like mono, I did my darndest to prevent it (hence gaining the freshman 15 four years too early).

Now that I’ve entered the trenches of adulthood, my worrying is at an all-time high. I worry about the everyday goings-on (missing my bus, what to make for dinner, leaving my clothes in the dryer for too long) and the more daunting topics (the well-being of my family, what my next career move should be).

Obviously, there’s nothing positive about worrying. To steal a quote from Wiz Khalifa: ‘Worrying is stupid. It’s like walking around with an umbrella outside waiting for it to rain.’ Not only that, but it causes acne, exhaustion, indigestion, memory loss, weight gain, and it murders your sex drive. At 26, I’ve barely scratched the surface of worry worthy situations. I needed to figure out how to tell my anxiety to STFU before it got the best of me.

The outcome

The timing seemed perfect for this resolution. For the Forth of July, my boyfriend and I had planned a trip to Austin, Texas, to visit my best friend and a few of his college friends. Since Texas is his home state, he’d taken the lead on organizing and scheduling, which was hard for my type A personality to digest. Combine that with the usual goings-on of a given week and I had my work cut out for me.

I’m sure there are scientifically researched ways on how to deal with worry. I didn’t have the time (or the patience) to seek out a medical professional so I turned to the internet instead. Thankfully, I stumbled upon this article, which outlines a few suggestions on how to kick your worry habit – like writing about it, going for a walk, or swearing off your search engine. Whenever worries started creeping in, I tried to employ some of these methods for keeping my cool.

And they helped. When I began stressing over a prescription refill that never reached my front door, I took action and called the company, instead of waiting around, twiddling my thumbs. When a last minute project with a tight turnaround popped up at work, I went for a walk around the building to blow off some stream. When I had a minor freak out about being almost three blog posts behind (oops :/), I told myself I could stress about it tomorrow – and then completely forgot it’d ever been an issue.

These tips came in especially handy during our time in Austin. As soon as we stepped off the plane, I felt myself starting to stress: Where would we watch fireworks?; Should we have made dinner reservations?; Did I pack enough clothes? After a deep breath and a pep talk from my BF, I was ready to roll. And I managed to keep my spirits up and my worrying down for the majority of our trip – even when I felt sick all evening from too much BBQ or when the hotel valet took over an hour to find our car or when we completely missed fireworks on the Fourth.

I think the best piece of advice from the article – and the tip that continues to keep me sane – is to just let it go. The majority of my worries stem from events or happenings that are out of my control. It was time I started to trust things would work themselves out and say ‘Bye Felicia’ to the knot in my stomach. This week, I basically taught myself how to not give a shit – and I can’t wait to keep it up.

Make sure your alarm is set for next week – I’m taking the a.m. by storm.